


Mᴀʏʙᴇ.

by Lefauxlucifer



Category: DARLING In The FRANXX (Anime)
Genre: F/F, Forgive Me, Happy Ending, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, Outdoor Sex, Yuri, i swear there's a plot, sinning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 06:52:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14665622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lefauxlucifer/pseuds/Lefauxlucifer
Summary: If an Ichigo falls for someone in the forest and no one else is there to hear it, does it make a fanfiction?





	Mᴀʏʙᴇ.

**Author's Note:**

> take a drink for every italicized word,

Even through the dimly-lit forest can a stark silhouette be drawn out, its features eerily distinct.

 

Far from petrified, its gait is closer to a saunter than a stroll, undoubtedly conveying that whatever might lurk under the guise of these trees should maintain its distance.

 

Only when it reaches a clearing does its pace relax, a piercing cry parting from its lips, in an affectionate tone, no less, no doubt.

 

❝ Dah—ling? ❞ is the query which parts from its rose-colored lips, its hair whipping wildly to and fro, even with the lack of breeze, and the call prompts a second shadow to slink curiously before coming to light, its back straight and chin held high.

 

And when that occurs, the first only scoffs disdainfully, but shows none of the typical signs of hostility, thereafter.

 

A thin veil of moonlight splits the atmosphere between them as they step into the open grassland, and it's clear that they're both women, both of rather contrary appearances, but nothing of their implied dispute has been divulged. To a casual onlooker, any number of causes could be reason enough for such a call-out.

 

❝ 002, ❞ remarks the shorter one sternly, her voice devoid of warmth.

 

❝ Fodder, ❞ the other replies, just as coolly, ❝ So my darling didn't invite me out here for a sanctimonious tryst, after all.

 

A pity, ❞ she remarks, pivoting and readying herself to leave.

 

 

❝ You don’t care why, do you? I expected as much from one who thinks of her teammates as expendable, ❞ she leers, trace amounts of desperation bluntly evident.

 

The other turns back, not as provoked as expected, but intrigued, nonetheless. She unwraps some sort of sweet and tosses the covering aside, swirling the treat in her mouth as she draws closer, until they're face-to-face, just enough distance between them for a child to squeeze through.

 

❝ Teammates?

 

And what do you know of people? You haven't told darling yet, have you? That you wish you were in my place? That you. . . ❞

 

She's not quite cut off as she touches her fingertips to her lips in thought, but rather, sees little reason to continue. By Ichigo’s distasteful expression, 002's point has been made.

 

❝ I would never wish to be you, ❞ comes her response, _icy_ as the bath water after winter's first snow, eyes bright, her fists _tightly_ clenched. Unsurprisingly, 002's stuck a nerve.

 

How anybody could lose their composure so quickly was beyond her understanding, and yet, an amusing spectacle, regardless.

 

❝ But you want exactly what I have, no? Isn’t that why you brought me out here—to beg for him back? ❞

 

The pinkette receives a pressuring scowl and pursed lips in return, and the eyes once locked with her own fall silently to the earth beneath. Stolen thunder was the best kind.

 

❝ You don't deserve him, ❞ Ichigo returns, as calm and composed as ever.

 

❝ Perhaps. But neither does a manipulative, conniving bitch like you, eh? Even then, darling's learned to love me for exactly who I am, ❞ 002 concludes with a showy flourish.

 

She doesn’t quite comprehend the entirety of what’s spoken to her, nonetheless, Ichigo opens her mouth in protest, only to have her jaw held rather keenly, as if 002 were sizing up her next meal.

 

Her eyes meet those of the witch anew, but she's hardly quick enough, or peradventure, 002's more than swift on her feet. The wind is knocked out of her sails before she can muster a word in edgewise, and she's flung against the tree with ease, none-too-gently. Apparently, her reaction time's dulled since they'd trained seriously, since the _sensation_ of 002's tongue skimming her earlobe only registers when it's fully over.

 

❝ You taste of fear. Distress. It's almost like you think darling will die by my hands or something, ❞ 002 observes, no doubt goading her.

 

❝ You've been nothing but trouble ever since you showed up here. Any concern on my behalf is rather justified. ❞

 

❝ Oh, is that so?

 

Then why don't we come to a mutually beneficial accord? _Entertain_ me here and I won't sneak into darling's bed.

 

Unless you want me doing those _obscene_ things to him, the ones that you can only dream of. . . ❞

 

002 doesn't wait for a reply before fiddling with the lapels of Ichigo's coat, forcing her on her tiptoes and gradually bringing her lips closer. She's telling herself it's the shock that keeps her from resisting, but really, it's a minor _inkling_ of curiosity that she can't quite suppress.

 

And she'll admit, it feels _different_ than what she had with Hiro. Not even a bad sort of different.

Whereas that was one-sided, this was blazing, stoked partially by the flames of her own fury, and regrettably, 002's whimsy. Only when she realizes that her lungs are burning up does she break away, gasping for air in a quite unladylike fashion.

 

002 is on the verge of bursting into laughter, and she can hear her snickering as she looks away. Inexplicably, something about that makes Ichigo want to _pummel_ 002 into the mud.

 

But given the gap in strength between them, she opts to grip the back of the other's neck, her free hand on the collar of that hoity-toity scarlet jacket, pulling the other into a firm liplock, an act she assumes is acceptable. She does remind herself that it's not a. . . _kiss_ , despite the warmth between her legs, just a duel, like the boys often had amongst each other. A trial, of sorts, to see if she can hold her own doing something like this with Hiro regularly, something that'll make him _react_ to her like he does to 002.

 

And imagining Hiro pressed up against her, his hands on her cheeks, caressing warmly, even that much makes a bizarre yet _lingering_ feeling precipitate. So if she simply conducts herself like it's him, she'll handle herself just fine.

 

Except the odds of his tongue _prodding_ at her lips, beckoning for entrance, are slim at best, and his hands definitely wouldn't settle on her waist and then _dare_ to drift lower, nor would he jam a knee in the gap between her thighs, sharply enough to make her _yelp_.

 

But this _monster_ does, and uses it as the perfect opening to turn their _debauchery_ into a full-on swords-dance just like Ichigo wants, a futile battle for dominance that both feel compelled to partake in, nonetheless.

 

And it's just as she feels close to victory that 002 replaces her knee with _sly_ fingers that _slither_ smoothly up her thigh and slip underneath the skirt of her uniform with a sanguine, calculated ease, as if she's planned it down to the last second. It makes Ichigo's breath _hitch_ noticeably, and against her better judgement, her hips _instinctively_ buck against 002's hand.

 

The pinkette grins artfully in approval and _leisurely_ circles the girl's lower lips through satin, eliciting several sounds from Ichigo that she didn't even know she had in her, until now.  She's done the same herself, once or twice, but those urges wouldn't _naturally_ subside, thereafter, and therefore, she could hardly give in to them in good conscience.

 

But as the other girl strokes her labia at a controlled, metered pace, her eyes _flutter_ shut without unfettered protest, easing herself into minute yet sensational waves of delight.

 

And they only intensify a thousandfold when she pretends it's him, instead.

 

His _nimble_ touch is warm and gentle, yet firm, his kisses are light and his voice, _soothing_. It’s everything she could never expect from this _beast_ , but she can hardly keep herself from a muffled yet pronounced 'Hiro' as the other continues her _onslaught,_ nonetheless, though Ichigo doesn't mean to let it slip out.

 

Her fingers stop.

 

Ichigo's up against the cool Spring air without that unfamiliar yet _relished_ skinship, and a dark want brews in the pit of her stomach. Her cheeks are reddened, flushed, and there's a stupid, _morbidly_ insufferable ache at her center, and the girl before her is now a completely different kind of evil, albeit one that she's more than willing to cooperate with.

 

❝ Zero Two. . .? ❞ she probes, quizzically, not wanting to let on more than she had to.

 

❝ Ara, darling. So you're learning. Never call a _lover_ by a name other than their own, ❞ the pinkette remarks, leaving Ichigo to decipher exactly what's meant, especially the supposed endearments, all while her thumb _hooks_ around the waistband of the girl's _thin_ undergarments. Ichigo's somewhat tense with _anticipation_ , though she'd never admit it, and it's only when she realizes that the other means to _tease_ does 002 dive past cloth to _indulge_ her with tantalizing friction. She does resist, of course, still retaining a measure of her pride, but allows the same incoherencies to part from her lips, careful not to let his name slip out.

 

And when 002's tongue grazes her ear, it's almost welcome, and her hot breath sends a sharp _shiver_ down her spine.

 

❝ Darling, ❞ she murmurs enthrallingly, entrancingly, soft and sweet, ❝ you won’t need him when you have me, hm? ❞

 

Ichigo's not earnestly considering it, but the way she _quivers_ as this devil's fingertips smoothly massage between her thighs has her not quite regretting such an encounter. When the other does delve into her folds, her hips _rise_ almost immediately in response, and 002 rewards her with constant, steady strokes, each venturing progressively deeper, but even then, Ichigo doesn't yield. The pinkette has no choice but to let her lips _fall_ along the other's neck and jawline in soft, slow, _searing_ kisses.

 

When she reaches the midst of 't, Ichigo _gasps_ harshly and her left foot does this strange _twitch_ , and her voice becomes _hesitant_ , and that's just where 002 gently bites to draw forth her name from the girl's mouth, and however reluctant she is to say them, she does. It's bashful and shy and completely unforeseen, but eventually, she hears it at regular intervals, between breathy moans and wanton, not-so-subtle _murmurs_. Ichigo's altogether thankful they're out in the forest and nowhere close to the others, elsewise, she'd be _mortified_.

 

And 002? She wouldn't care one bit if they were discovered, she'd just continue as the onlookers gawked.

 

So Ichigo's flowery, _heartfelt_ fantasies have all but _crumbled_ before this, this purely physical, _insatiable_ need, and the 002 before her is more human than she's ever seen her, willing to do anything to get more of that adrenaline _rush_ from hearing Ichigo’s _surreal_ melodies. It's a majestic _symphony_ of heat that she alone conducts, and the power, the control, all of it is far more _intoxicating_ than even the bloodlust she often showcases. 002's eyes flash a stark crimson as she feels the other's body tense up, something stirring within her. Her thighs squeeze together, her walls tightening around the pinkette's fingertips in a blissful embrace. Ichigo’s compelled to roll her hips, _whimpering_ , and it's the cutest damn thing 002's ever seen.

 

So she's nice to her, for once, or perhaps, not at all, because her pace quickens and she's hardly as gentle, and the mindless look in the other's eyes doesn't discourage her one bit. Ichigo's subtle cries were now shrieks and pants of delusional, _vivid_ pleasure, _flashes_ of stark white clouding her vision as the heat from her thighs _floods_ and envelopes her. It comes in breathtaking waves, and 002 doesn't deprive Ichigo of a second, continuing her violent thrusts even when it gets difficult.

 

With a final shudder, she slumps onto her archrival, emerald eyes half-lidded, too drained to move a muscle.

 

And when she comes to, she's on a soft bed, _tenderly_ held in strong arms, tight and close, something nuzzling into her neck, a familiar scarlet jacket wrapped cozily around her shoulders.

 

And it’s fully against her better judgement. But maybe, first impressions weren’t final. Maybe, at their core, they were both equal parts beauty and beast. Maybe that meant they could be friends. . . more than friends.

.

.

.

Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah so the excessive italics are supposed to make up for my lack of writing ability, anyways,
> 
> you should totally stick around if you've made it this far without cringing and hit me up with any thoughts ya' might have.
> 
> pls don't judge my sinning.


End file.
